The Accidental Werewolf 2: Something About Harry (Accidentally Paranormal Novel) (23 page)

“You had avoidance aches.”

Mara sighed, refusing to spoil this day. “Listen, you haven’t seen Mimi and Fletcher in days. They need to see you. They need to spend time with you, and you need to focus on them, nothing else. Everything’s going to go to hell in a handbasket when the police start questioning the connections between Jeff and us. For the moment, while it’s quiet, let’s just let everything go and have some fun. Okay? I promise I’ll tell you everything tonight.”

Harry smiled his beautiful, fabulous, heart-wrenching smile. “Swear it?”

Mara crossed her heart over her oversized down jacket. “On my
Dr. Who
DVDs.”

Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, hauling her to him, his smile full of amusement. “You watch
Dr. Who
?
”

“All while I drool over the TARDIS.”

“God, you’re hot,” he mumbled before he lowered his lips to hers, claiming them in a kiss that made her toes curl.

Laughter from the doorway made them both break apart in guilt.

“Uncle Harry’s kissing Mara—so gross!” Fletcher shouted before hiding his embarrassment by running at Harry and grabbing onto his forearm, burying his face in it. Harry pumped his arm up and down while Fletcher clung to it and laughed.

Mimi’s eyebrow was comically raised, her tone sassy. “Do you loooovvee Uncle Harry, Miss Mara?”

Mara scooped her up, swinging her in a circle to the tune of more raucous giggles. “I love that we’re going tubing! So how about a lot less talk and a whole lot more snow, huh?”

Mimi’s face lit up, her angelic features full of chubby delight when Mara hauled her upward and wrapped her legs around her waist. “Last one to the top of the hill smells like Uncle Harry’s stinky socks!” she hollered, taking off out of the bedroom with Mimi still in her arms.

She bolted out the front door into the cold, clear day, Harry’s and Fletcher’s laughter just behind her, filling her soul.

* * *

M
IMI
latched on to Mara’s hand as they made their way back up the winding hill to grab another tube for one last trip down. Snow crunched beneath their feet, Mimi’s purple boots, courtesy of Marty, made Mara smile. “Are you having fun, Mimi?”

Mimi bobbed her head, her grin wide; her cheeks dusted a healthy red from the cold air. “Can we have hot chocolate and marshmallows again when we go inside?”

Mara tugged at one of her springy curls poking from beneath the purple hat Auntie Nina bought specifically for this tubing occasion. “Wouldn’t miss it. You can help me make it. But remember, I like lots of marshmallows. So no skimping,” she teased.

Wanda’s excited scream as she whipped past Harry and Fletcher, racing the pair on her tube, echoed in her ears.

Archibald, in his comical combination of red galoshes, hat with earmuffs, and stately black manservant uniform, chided Wanda for being so competitive with the shake of his finger until she began throwing snowballs at him.

“Miss Wanda, I fear I must exact revenge upon you! Duck, Sir Fletcher! Bombs away!” he shouted his devilish delight, landing a snowball in the middle of Wanda’s back.

Mimi stopped walking, watching the four engage in an all-out snowball fight. Yet her mind was still somewhere else. With Donna. “My mom used to make hot chocolate for us when it snowed. I miss Mommy. Daddy, too,” she whispered as though it were a secret she’d kept to herself and she was embarrassed to say the words out loud.

Mara’s heart felt like it was in a vise grip. She knew what it was to miss the influence of a female presence at a young age. She ached for Mimi and the loss she’d suffered.

But she decided not to avoid the issue of talking about Donna the way her brothers had avoided talking about their parents’ death. In their efforts to soothe her, they hadn’t allowed her to mourn. They’d rushed in to protect her, but sharing her feelings with two boys was awkward, and while they hadn’t discouraged it, they hadn’t inspired it, either.

So Mara followed Nina’s lead in, believing that silence led to fear and misunderstanding. She wanted Mimi to remember, and when the pain wasn’t so fresh and she understood loss from a more mature perspective, she hoped Mimi would fondly recall sharing all the wonderful things she’d loved about her mother. “You absolutely can miss her, fancy pants. She was a great mother. Your Uncle Harry told me. Maybe sometime, you can tell me all the things that were great about her, too. I’d love to hear them all.”

Mimi set her gaze toward the purple streaks blazing across the sky, signaling that nightfall was coming. Her lower lip trembled. “Do you think she can see us?”

Mara squeezed Mimi’s gloved hand, tucking her jacket around her neck. “I think she can. I think she can see that you’re trying so hard to be good for your uncle.”

Mimi nodded, but it was slow. “Uncle Harry’s always too busy to talk about Mommy.”

Ah, the run, hide, and divert tactic. To avoid experiencing his own personal pain, Harry’d shut everyone else down in the sharing process, too. “Know what I think? I think Uncle Harry might not be so good at talking about your mom because he loved her so, so much. For some people, it hurts to remember. But he told me she was the best sister ever, and he really liked your daddy. So next time you want to talk to him about your mom, how about you just ask him if it’s okay for you to miss Mommy together? Oh, and be sure to give him a big hug when you do. He loves hugs.”

A tear slipped from Mimi’s eye, making it painfully clear she was trying to remain stoic in light of the fact that the one person left in the world who was closest to her couldn’t open up. “Bet Mommy has the biggest, sparkliest angel wings ever.”

“Bet where Mommy is they have purple wings that sparkle, all shiny when they flap.” Mara made a flapping motion with her arms, making Mimi giggle.

Moments later, the floodgates opened, her round eyes fell to the snow-covered ground. “I miss her.”

Mara fought a wave of her own tears. Mimi was so small against the backdrop of the enormous landscape behind her, her genuine sorrow making her look even more vulnerable. Mara gathered her close. “So why don’t you tell her that?”

Mimi shrugged as if the idea were pointless—useless. “She can’t hear me.”

“I dunno. I talk to my mom all the time. She might not answer, but I like to think she hears me.”

“Did she died-ed, too?”

Mara’s heart shifted, but she smiled anyway, caught in the grip of this child’s desperate wish to find peace. “She did die. My father, too. I was sad just like you.”

Mimi’s gaze up at her was full of innocent hope. “But you seem really happy now.”

If only happiness were as simple at her age as it was at Mimi’s. She wanted Mimi to always have that. No matter what life threw at her, it was okay to hope love would always win. “That’s because I know my mom’s keeping your mom company, and they’re up there talking about sparkly wings and wishing us happy thoughts while they miss us, too.”

Mimi let her head rest against Mara’s hip, putting her arm around her thigh. “I like that.”

Mara squeezed her shoulders and fought a shudder of breath. “Me, too, Miss Mimi.”

“I like you.”

She blinked to erase any sign of impending tears, glancing down at this small child, fighting to find a way to survive such tragedy. “Really? You do? I guess I like you okay enough,” Mara teased, dragging a finger down Mimi’s freckled nose, making her squeal. She held out her hand. “C’mon, let’s go back to the cottage and see if Carl’s made us some cabbage soup for dinner. Yum-yum, cabbage. Whaddya say to that?”

She wrinkled her bright red nose and made a face. “That is so gross. Cabbage is stinky. But I like Carl, even if he is a weird color.”

Mara burst out laughing at the irony of her childish statement.

If Mimi only knew the half of it.

* * *

W
ITH
the children gone back to Wanda’s, and Nina and Carl visiting with Marty and Keegan, the silence of the cottage became profoundly obvious.

Harry was lost in his thoughts on the couch, staring off into the roar of the fire he’d built.

But they had to talk before . . .

Wiping off the last remnants of a very messy dinner made up of cheeseburgers and Tater Tots from the counter, Mara poured him a mug of coffee and took a deep breath before making her way to the couch to join him.

He smiled up at her distractedly when she offered him the steaming mug. “Thanks.”

Pulling a throw from the back of her couch, she settled in, crossing her legs beneath it. “Penny for them?”

He shook his head, his eyes distant. “I didn’t think I’d miss them this much.”

“They’re amazing kids. I had a great time with them today. Who knew Arch was such an ace snowman maker?”

His smile, when it happened lately, changed the landscape of his face, taking it from hard and cold to boyishly sweet. “They had a great time, too. It was probably the happiest I’ve seen them since . . .”

“Donna died.” No holds barred, time to get it out in the open while she still had the chance.

He nodded his dark head, cupping the mug with a firmer grip. “I guess I got so caught up in Donna’s death, and I was so overwhelmed by all the little details of running a household with two active kids, I forgot to enjoy them the way I used to when I was just plain old Uncle Harry. We used to have some really fun times. Lately, I’ve been nothing but an internal wreck or a badger about bedtimes and structure.”

The struggle Harry fought so hard to hide made him so much more endearing. Each second she spent with him, every word he spoke about the children, left her wanting to peel back yet another layer of his personality.

But they didn’t have time to indulge in anything other than the facts. “You were just trying to do the right thing. Get them settled. Your whole life was turned upside down, too, you know. Single man suddenly raising two children who are so young. Be fair to yourself in the assessment process.”

“I want to do right by Donna. I need to.”

“You will. You are. You’re adjusting. But do me a favor?”

“Name it.”

“Let Mimi talk about how much she misses Donna. Fletcher, too. Speaking as a kid who lost her parents, distraction so you don’t have to face your own pain isn’t the answer.” And it bred all sorts of coping mechanisms like avoidance, solitude, and most importantly, a voice unheard.

Harry scowled, making his “Nina” face. “Fear breeds confusion, misunderstanding, and eventually gives you fucking kids who act like they’re entitled to shit in gold toilets while they text their friends on their fancy iPhones they don’t deserve and didn’t goddamn well earn.”

Mara laughed and nodded, letting her cheek rest on the cushioned back of the couch. “In the words of Countess Dracula, yes.” Reaching out, she grabbed his hand in impulse, forgetting everything but her mission. “Don’t let that be a part of what keeps them from sharing with you, the fear they’ll upset you. I know they see a therapist, and that’s healthy, but the therapist isn’t you. She didn’t love Donna and her husband like you did.”

Harry looked away from her and out the window, his fingers twitching beneath hers. “I’m shitty at sharing my feelings.”

She snorted. “Oh, please. How quickly we forget. You’ve been very share-ish about your reluctance to be one of us. You sure didn’t hold back when you were reminding me about how you were going to find a way out of this.”

“Dig, dig, dig,” he teased, leaning closer to her.

“Hide, hide, hide,” she reminded him, staying the course of her mission.

His throat worked, the strong column of muscle beneath his sweater, tensing. “Losing Donna was even worse than when I lost my parents. All we had was each other.”

No excuses. No compromises. She couldn’t explain why, but she needed to know he’d nurture Mimi and Fletcher’s desire to remember their parents, encourage them to share the good and bad. “Too bad. The kids shouldn’t have to hide their anguish, Harry. It’s part of the reason they’re acting out. For someone so smart, you’re a little dense. Just promise me this, and I only ask you because Keegan and Sloan did the same thing to me that you’re doing to the kids. They diverted, they coaxed, they gave me things. Lots and lots of
things
. They never talked to me. But nothing makes up for losing your parents, Harry. Not a bike or a dog or the best prom dress money can buy. What helps is expressing it. Don’t ever give up. Because you can’t throw your hands up in the air and pretend like you don’t know what’s wrong when they act out and you’re part of the explanation. No more excuses.” More tears had begun to form in her eyes at her own personal memories.

Harry swiped at them with his thumb. “Your parents died when you were a kid, right?”

“Not as young as Mimi and Fletcher, but yes. I was almost thirteen, and it was awful. Keegan did all the right things, but because he claimed he sucked at expressing himself, too, I felt the brunt of it. There was nowhere to go with all the pain of losing my mother and father.”

He grinned suddenly. “But look at you. You turned out pretty good.”

Anger made her lash out at him. It wasn’t something to joke about. “If by good you mean in the future you’re comfortable with Mimi making baby potions because she’s single, lonely, and can’t find anyone who wants to start a family with her, keep this up.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right. I mean, not about how pathetic you’ve made yourself sound. That’s just not how everyone else sees you, me included. I mean about listening to them and talking about Donna. I’m bottling up all the memories because they always lead back to the same thing. She’s gone, and she’s never coming back.” Harry paused, his voice raw and low. “Sometimes it’s almost more than I can handle feeling all at once. She was a great mother, and that makes her a hard role model to live up to, but worse, it hurts to talk about her in the past tense.”

Her heart pulled again, clenching and unclenching. “And you’re going to be a great father. Don’t doubt that, Harry. I don’t.”

His eyes remained blank, his head cocking in question. “You say that as if you won’t be around to see it.”

Her eyebrow rose when she poked a finger playfully at his chest. “You say that as if there isn’t a conflict between us. Aside from everything else, you don’t want to be like me, remember?”